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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23469409">Groceries</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Monsieur_Grenouille/pseuds/Monsieur_Grenouille'>Monsieur_Grenouille</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Quarantine With the Wentzes [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fall Out Boy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>COVID-19, M/M, Quarantine, Some real dad stuff, transgender Patrick Stump</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 05:54:09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>844</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23469409</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Monsieur_Grenouille/pseuds/Monsieur_Grenouille</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Patrick comes back from the store.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Patrick Stump/Pete Wentz</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Quarantine With the Wentzes [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1689277</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Groceries</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I have this <em>thing</em> for cuddly/playful tackling. I think it’s cute, as long as he doesn’t accidentally snap my leg.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Pete stood behind the front door, waiting for Patrick to get home from picking up their Walmart order. He was wearing a face mask, sterile gloves, and held two hand sanitizer bottles. One in each hand, as if he was a mafia man with guns. If only Patrick would lend him the fedora for this.</p>
<p>
  <b>5 minutes later</b>
</p>
<p>Pete heard the door’s lock click, followed by the sound of a turning knob. Patrick stepped inside, cueing Pete to spring into action. The bassist tackled his husband and let them crash to the ground before pinning down Patrick’s wrists. “SANITIZE!” he screeched, “SANITIZE OR EUTHANIZE!!” </p>
<p>Patrick giggled, “Pete, get off of me. You don’t even know what you’re saying.” He didn’t squirm or resist. </p>
<p>“I know what I’m saying. Get the outside world away from here or we’re both gonna die.”</p>
<p>“It’s not exactly euthanasia, though.”</p>
<p>“I just wanted it to rhyme, ‘kay?” Pete sighed mockingly and lowered the face mask. “You need to appreciate my improv more, babe. Otherwise we won’t get anything done around here.” </p>
<p>Patrick chuckled, “I appreciate your efforts, Pete. Can I have the hand sanitizer?” He reached up lazily to grab it. </p>
<p>Pete handed it to him. “What did you get from the store?” He asked, nodding towards the bags near the door. </p>
<p>Patrick sighed, “You know what I got; you sent out the order, remember?” </p>
<p>“Well, yeah, but did they get it right?” </p>
<p>“Probably, I don’t know,” Patrick stared at the bags, then stared at Pete. After he squirted the gel onto his hands, he went in for a kiss from Pete. Pete went along with it, softly pecking him on the lips. “C’mon,” Patrick whined, “You can do better than that!” </p>
<p>Pete stood up and closed the door. “Our door was open, that’s all.” He picked up the bags and set them and the counter, picking through the items. He pulled out a blue box, staring at it questioningly. “Tampons? Really? I thought it happened only two weeks ago, with you.” </p>
<p>Patrick groaned and stood up. “They’re for donation.”</p>
<p>“Twenty boxes, though? The website only said they needed two,” Pete stared back into the bag, surprised at how many tampon packages there were. He had an idea of how to build a fort out of the boxes, but stopped his imagination before it got weirder.</p>
<p>Patrick blushed, “I haven’t gotten the surgery yet (I won’t for a long time) and, um, our daughter is twelve.” </p>
<p>“So I’m gonna be alone in the same house as two people on their period.” </p>
<p>“It’s not <em>our </em>period,” Patrick muttered, “There’s <em>my </em>period, and then there’s <em>her </em>period. Two separate events that are equally difficult.” </p>
<p>“Okay,” Pete threw his arms up in mock surrender. “Just save the murder for when I’m asleep.” </p>
<p>Patrick growled, “You know I will. Just put away the groceries with me, will you? Then we can cut whatever tension there seems to be around here.” He reached for two cartons of eggs and opened the fridge.</p>
<p>Pete grabbed out a large block of cheese out of a bag. “Seems like a fair deal,” he chuckled, “Crisper or freezer?”</p>
<p>Patrick glanced at the cheese. “Try to fit it in the crisper,” he commanded.</p>
<p>Pete nodded. “Yes, sir.”</p>
<p>*******************************</p>
<p>After they’d unloaded all the groceries, Patrick kept up on his promise. After making sure Londyn wasn’t in the spare downstairs bedroom, he and Pete locked the door. The singer collapsed onto the bed, staring up at Pete with his baby blue eyes. Pete laid down on top of him, smirking. “Do you want something?” he murmured. Patrick nodded and licked his lips.</p>
<p>“Y-You. I want your tongue.” He tugged at Pete’s shirt and kissed his neck. He could just as easily reach Pete’s lips, but Pete thought that the neck was hotter. </p>
<p>He wouldn’t stop kissing Pete’s neck. Pete tried to talk to him but he was too busy repeating his lover’s name Not for attention or anything, but Patrick had always been really good with his mouth. Pete wanted it somewhere else.</p>
<p>“P-Patrick. Just one kiss on the mouth?” </p>
<p>Patrick sighed and nuzzled Pete’s chin. “Fine.” He drifted his head up just enough to catch Pete’s lips in his. Pete parted his lips to push in his tongue. Patrick gasped and grabbed the collar of Pete’s sweater. “Y-Yes,” he stuttered breathlessly. </p>
<p>Pete held onto Patrick’s hips, smiling against the kiss. He slipped his fingers into his husband’s waistband, his cold hands pressing on skin. </p>
<p>Patrick broke off. “No,” he whispered, “None of that.” </p>
<p>“Why?” Pete moved his hands, but didn’t take them out from under Patrick’s lower back. </p>
<p>Patrick nipped at Pete’s chin. “Period,” he whispered, “I’m off limits now.” </p>
<p>Pete pouted. “Can I still kiss you?” </p>
<p>“What’ve we been doing this whole time? Of course you can kiss me.” Patrick leaned forward to suck Pete’s lower lip. </p>
<p>Pete backed out. “Don’t suck <em>my </em>lip. That’s my job! Lean back and let me do it. You deserve it.” </p>
<p>Patrick sighed and threw his head against the pillows. “Whatever you say.” </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Clean comments?</p></blockquote></div></div>
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